


all the better to eat you with (my dear)

by Hoodedscarlet



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Barebacking, Fuck Or Die, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kidnapping, Lone Wolf!Hanzo, M/M, Marking, Multiple Orgasms, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Power Exchange, To An Extent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-06-21
Packaged: 2018-07-16 09:26:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7262368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hoodedscarlet/pseuds/Hoodedscarlet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An assassin specialises in disappearing into the shadows, making himself one with the quiet and the unknown. But one can become too good at slipping into the darkness - and when McCree realises that perhaps this time Hanzo hadn't planned for this it's too late to save him. When Overwatch get a note with a location and the words 'Come get him' , they have to go and save their friend - and the man that McCree meets is not entirely the same one he remembers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all the better to eat you with (my dear)

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a PWP, what happened after that I have no idea.... I blame the kink meme prompter.
> 
> Written for this request on the kink meme:  
> "Don't care how it gets there (maybe Talon got their hands on Hanzo, maybe he lived with wolves for a few years, whatever you want), but I'd love to see some animalistic/feral!Hanzo fucking McCree.  
> If you want to turn Hanzo into a were/shifter or give him animal features that's fine, just no a/b/o or watersports please."

McCree wished that on the day Hanzo had gone missing he had been the first one to notice something was wrong. The first one to say that there was something not quite right - ask Winston to check the security camera feeds, ask Tracer to do a once over the perimeter. He was in a perfect position to do so as well; the two of them had a daily morning target practice in the ship hanger, making sure their aim stayed sharp as they sunk shot after shot into the training dummies. Hanzo would quietly listen as McCree let his mouth run about whatever took his fancy that day, and sometimes he’d talk as well. Those were some of McCree’s favourite days, when he could see the other man’s guard beginning to fall and he’d hear stories of the man’s time away from Overwatch. Of nights out on the open road, with only the moon bright overhead to keep him company as he let himself be carried to where he could next contest the restoration of his own honour. McCree could relate, in a way - years of running in the Deadlock gang had him very familiar with the open road and the open sky. After all, what cowboy wasn’t?  
  
But then one day he hadn’t shown up, and McCree loathed the fact he hadn’t been concerned straight away. He just dismissed it as the man being away on a mission, or sickness, or just Hanzo not wanting to deal with him today. McCree had certainly seen him get to that point a few times when he was feeling particularly talkative (or ‘being exceedingly obnoxious’, as Hanzo would so _delicately_ put it). That day he had just fired off his usual rounds and left; same with the next day, and the day after with nothing more than a couple passing thoughts concerning why he hadn’t heard about Hanzo’s trip.

A few days later though, he had heard D.Va wondering aloud to Tracer where ‘the old dragon guy’ was and suddenly he was a lot more concerned. Torbjörn hadn’t seen him. Reinhardt hadn’t seen him. Tracer, Mei, Pharah hadn’t seen him. Quickly, he had come to two conclusions. Firstly, Hanzo was gone, and secondly, _nobody_ had any clue where he was. He hadn’t been seen leaving, he hadn’t told anybody he planned to - the only thing they had was the fact Hanzo had seemed a little more quiet the day before he had disappeared; which was the most unhelpful thing imaginable when it came to Hanzo. This was the same man who would reach his speech quota for the day after three sentences, after all.

He didn't blame Winston for immediately taking to his computer when he told him, pointedly making his way through the screens of security camera feeds and databases in an attempt to figure out what exactly had happened to the man. Frankly, it was the same reason he was still here, kicked back on a chair and trying not to look too concerned. He certainly wasn't fooling himself on the matter though - shooting the shit while shooting shit with somebody every morning tended to make a guy feel closer to his partner. And well, if 'closer' included the not so occasional whack off material, well that was neither here nor there.

According to the databases, the last time Hanzo checked out of the safe house was at 3:31am just over a week ago - a early morning walk, most probably. McCree remembered talking to Hanzo about them once, said they were good for 'clearing his head'. McCree could certainly agree that the fresh air was good for him and more often than not came with him able to just think over things for a while; he could see the appeal for a guy like Hanzo. The security camera footage checked out with that time too. Hanzo appeared out the corner of one feed, bow slung over his back as he wandered down the streets of King's Cross. Then the screen shook. Something black streaked across the screen as _something_ jumped Hanzo. Then nothing until the feed came back on, two hours later with nobody in sight - including Hanzo. The only sign that anybody or anything had been there at all was a dark puddle in the shadows of the recording. Every camera Winston tried returned more of the same footage - a shot of Hanzo, blackness, nothing.  
  
“This has happened before.” Angela said too quietly, wringing her wrists as she failed to draw her eyes away from the screen. “Amélie was taken just like this. Down to the letter - it’s all the same.” McCree could only nod solemnly, trying to ignore the way his stomach dropped at the words. Lacroix hadn’t been a soldier by any stretch of the imagination when she had been taken, and while she had the good heart of any person who worked so closely with Overwatch McCree hesitated to say it was any stronger than the average civilian’s. Certainly it wouldn’t - and didn’t - hold up to the torture that Talon had put her through, broken her down and turned her into the terror that was Widowmaker. Unfeeling, never missing, built from the husk of a woman with a bell like laugh and a touch for theatrics and ballet. She was one thing; Hanzo was another. Hanzo came from a long line of assassins and McCree had seen the man fire enough arrows to know that the man was not harmless by any stretch of the imagination. On top of that the man had a stubborn streak that ran a mile deep. He was not going to go down without a fight - which was the terrifying part because Talon was involved, and there was nothing they did better.

All their suspicions were confirmed when they saw the brand new graffiti motif at the site of Hanzo’s abduction; a dragon ripped in three by taloned fingers. At its base, Hanzo’s storm bow. McCree picked up the finely crafted weapon, with nary a scratch on it, and tried to convince himself it would be alright. After all, Hanzo was just another member of Overwatch and people had disappeared and died all the time in his Deadlock and Blackwatch days, why was this any different?

Why was this any different, he thought as he helped Winston in vain try to find eyewitnesses that didn’t exist. Why was this any different, he thought as Angela told Hana _we’ll find him_ and he wasn’t sure who the woman was trying to convince more. Why was this any different, he thought as even Genji offered to help and ghost Talon’s old haunts - because he and his brother may have history but even Genji was aware that if they didn’t find him soon it may not be Hanzo they would see next time. That was the mantra he repeated - _why was this any different, why was this any different -_ as Overwatch came together in vain to search for him, mourn for him. As they reluctantly moved on - because what else could they do? He didn’t know what else, as he stared at the bow propped up against the corner in his room. Talon was far too good at covering their tracks, and as time moved on it looked like unless Talon wanted they to find Hanzo they wouldn’t see him again.

-x-

A single arrow, buried in the brickwork in the eye of a graffiti dragon with colours worn away by time. The point glowing softly, the shaft’s craftsmanship unmistakable. A single note tied to the end, and in neat printed script two things. 

 _51.50072919999999, -0.12462540000001354  
__Come get him._  

Lucio had presented the arrow to the rest of Overwatch and there was no way of hiding the worry on his face, the thinly veiled worries that everybody else in the room mirrored. Was this a trap? Did they want anything in return? Was Hanzo okay? Was he still _Hanzo?_ Because they all knew that just because the body remained there was no guarantee that the mind was intact - there was no guarantee that there wasn’t a new Widowmaker wearing the skin of their former comrade… But they couldn’t just _leave_ him.

The coordinates lead to a large warehouse complex in an area of the city that made the slums of the omnic city look well-kept and safe, and quickly a small team banded together - a six person operation, ready for anything. Because after all, they didn’t know what (or _who_ ) would be waiting for them there. Hana had insisted on coming, as did Tracer, and nobody dared to challenge Jack when he came to stand alongside the rest of them. Pharah wasn’t coming - her suit was a poor choice for the close quarters they knew they’d be fighting in - but nobody questioned her as she stood with Angela and rested a hand on her shoulder, thumb stroking soothingly. After all, nobody knew the stakes as much as Angela; but there was no way in hell that she was going to sit back and let them go without her. Just like there was no way in hell they were going without McCree.

The plan was simple - get in, fan out and search the premise for Hanzo. Take out any agents seen, don’t get complacent. If this wasn’t such a serious mission McCree would have probably made a side crack about how the middle of the battlefield was the _perfect_ place to light up a cigar, but he bit his tongue. Considering the potent mix of anticipation and dread that let his mouth dry, it wasn’t hard. “We don’t know what state Hanzo will be if we manage to locate him.” Angela said. “Amélie was in good health, although appeared disoriented and was slightly dehydrated. She was also cooperative for the entirety of her recovery - however, I hesitate to say whether that will also apply to Hanzo, especially with such an… Open invitation to retrieve him.”

“We can only assume without further information that Hanzo is as dangerous as any other Talon agent.” Winston said with a grimace. “Even if you see him, do not let your guard down. He is an acutely trained assassin and if Talon has manipulated him in any way he is capable of a fight. This is a recovery mission, but if it comes to it…”  
  
“He’d rather be dead than in Talon’s claws.” McCree piped up where Winston trailed off, looking at the group from under the brim of his hat. “Honour and all that, y’know?” The group nodded solemnly at that. There was no illusion here that Overwatch was a pretty job all the time - and even as a former Blackwatch member McCree knew that Overwatch had to do some pretty terrible things over the years. War was not pretty, and it seldom had winners.

The trip there was silent, the members lost in quiet contemplation - it certainly didn’t help that D.Va had chosen to meet them there, wanting to ‘warm up’ her mech. He certainly didn’t blame the girl - the atmosphere was heavy enough at it was, and he’d sure love to be warming up Peacekeeper with some tin cans right about now. Especially since even now, months after, the idea of training still conjured up the intent gaze prickling at his neck, the sharp sound of arrows piercing metal, the quiet triumphant chuckle at a particularly good spray of arrows, so quiet it had taken weeks for McCree to hear it.

Angela had once asked him what he thought of when he looked at Hanzo, one time when she was checking over old injuries in the quiet of her clinic. He’d replied he saw an equal, a man skilled with a bow although a bit of a stickler for tradition. Angela had only hummed quietly in reply, returning to her work with naught but a small smile on her face. In hindsight, a hindsight he mulled over as the group of them clambered out of the truck and loaded their weapons, he wondered if she had seen something he didn’t.

The halls of the warehouse were dim and confining, and the moment McCree stepped in it made him acutely aware this was not the ever stretching desert of the United States. Metal and concrete and paper thin walls loomed over him and the back of his neck prickled uncomfortably as his hand floated by his gun. The sensation only heightened as fork after fork forced the group to split; Jack upstairs, D.Va in the rafters, Tracer around the perimeter. Mercy gave him a worried second look before she followed Winston into the heart of the warehouse itself, boxes piled up precariously. Alone, McCree turned to the stairs in front of him, leading down into the darkened confines of the warehouse’s underbelly.

 _Just gotta make this even more of a pain, don’t you?  
  
_ He descended the stairs quietly, acutely aware of every footstep against the concrete. The cold of the floor seemed to seep into his bones, making him pull his serape tight around himself as he pushed open the door in front of him. Immediately he was assaulted by the smell of medical grade disinfectant, thick and cloying and sickly sweet. He was no stranger to the smell - Angela did work at a high standard and she kept her clinic impeccably clean - but this was not the smell of cleanliness. This was the smell of a cover up, of blood on a sinner’s hands that never quite washed away, covered up with a professionalism that only came with agents of Talon. But it was a development for sure, and knowing the terrifying changes that had occurred to Widowmaker in the mockery of a medical laboratory like this his heart beat faster in his chest.

Room after room he checked, glancing in just enough to shoot out any security cameras that were too obvious to be in use and to make sure Hanzo wasn’t there before moving on. He quickly realised why Talon had established this as a base - a warehouse was big for sure, but this place was massive when you too in the labyrinth of a basement this place had. The basement itself was probably illegal under English building laws… Considering Talon was here, they almost definitely were. Less and less doors remained as he made his way down the hall, and he pushed open the final one without thinking too much - and then he couldn’t think at all.

Half of the room was barred off, separating it into two parts. The part McCree stood in currently was medical in set up, and while no equipment remained papers still littered the benches. A part of him wanted to look, wanted to read but he couldn’t - not when the other half of the room was a cell and an all too familiar shape huddled in the corner of it.

“Hanzo?”  
  
No response.

McCree looked around for a key (because of course there was a key, it was a cell after all and Hanzo would have tried to escape otherwise, right? Right?) and quickly spotted a card peeking out from under some of the papers. A quick swipe through the door’s card reader and it unlocked - one, two, three, four heavy clacks he counted off, and each one made Hanzo’s shoulders flinch, the man curl into himself tighter and tighter.  
  
“Hanzo?” He called out again, softer this time. Again, no response, but now he was closer; now he could see the way that quiet tremors shook his body, the barely there whisper of a broken voice repeating something in Japanese he couldn't understand. Fuck, what had they done to him? McCree crept further forward, each step booming in the silence of the room. “Partner, you there? You got me mighty worried.” He said, resting a hand on Hanzo’s shoulder-  
  
“ _Don’t touch me._ ”

-And Hanzo was face to face with eyes that burned with a barely restrained rage, snarled words that barely sounded human as a hand latched around his wrist squeezing, _squeezing_ with nails too long and too sharp digging into flesh and McCree yelled out in pain. _Wrong wrong wrong_ a part of him screamed and he had to agree, because there was something unhinged in those eyes that scared McCree in a way that he couldn’t rationalise and he wanted out, he wanted to run-

-And then something clicked and Hanzo reeled back from McCree like his very skin burned him, like his presence burned him and McCree could see the genuine horror scrawl itself across his face as his skin paled. It was a stark contrast to the red that circled his eyes (that was blood, wasn’t it? Fuck, what had happened to him?)  
  
“McCree- I didn’t know- I’m sorry- I thought-”  
  
“Whoa, easy partner.” McCree said, bobbing down so he was at the same height as Hanzo, who was pressed up against the wall like if he willed himself he would melt into the concrete. “You’re fine. You’re safe. I’m here.” He offered his hand again and this time Hanzo didn’t refuse it - in fact he quickly seeked out more, burying his face in McCree’s serape. He could hear Hanzo taking deep breaths, fingers tangling in the fabric and the younger man let him do it, concerned eyes travelling over the man’s body searching for injuries. If there were any they were hidden under clothing - the only exception was the thick mass of bandages that started over the left side of Hanzo’s chest and wound down to his hand, covering muscle, skin, tattoo. He couldn’t see a lick of skin under them. What had Talon done to him?  
  
“I’m sorry. I thought- I thought you weren’t actually here.” Hanzo said, voice cracking and whether it was from disuse or emotion it made McCree shake all the same. That was how Angela found them, McCree holding the man he knew had been broken in ways he couldn’t understand and bless her heart Angela understood right away. She quietened the others as they came through, and collected up the papers that littered the room (He could see red scrawled across official looking papers, crosses upon crosses with ‘failure’ stamped on the corner of every one in a way that made his stomach flip because in an organisation like Talon that broke people down like it was nothing what constituted a _failure?_ )

McCree’s arms felt empty when Hanzo was taken away to the medical clinic, under Mercy’s wing, and he tried to tell himself that the pain in those eyes, in that voice could be soothed by nanobots and healing light.

-x-

The news of Hanzo’s return spread like wildfire across Overwatch over the next few days. After all, the man was thought to be lost to Talon entirely and here they were with him recovered. _Alive._ And keeping people alive wasn’t exactly the top of the terrorist group’s ‘to do’ list, especially with Overwatch agents. The story of his rescue was retold again and again with the details only getting more exaggerated as time went on; if McCree had to piece together the stories from the rumours, he alone gunned down thirty men as he raced through the burning warehouse, pulling Hanzo from the smoking wreckage with one arm as he fired from the other. Not to say he didn’t enjoy them - indeed, the idea of him looking like something off a pulp fiction cover was right up his alley and played more into the reason he dressed the way he did than he liked - but it was interesting to see the way that everybody tried to explain away one of the crucial facts; Hanzo had been recovered, but nobody had seen him at all.

Even McCree himself hadn’t seen Hanzo since Angela in full valkyrie get up had whisked him away, the man’s fate as much a mystery to him as it was basically everybody else. Indeed, the only person that seemed to have any idea what was happening with him was Angela - and she had all but disappeared from the halls of Overwatch too. Retreated back into her lab, working on patients and who knew what else until the early hours of the morning; McCree had only seen one glimpse of her this week and the woman looked a wreck. Considering how immaculate the woman usually looked that in itself was concerning; enough that one night he decided to take the trek over to the clinic. Silvery light from the full moon filtered in through the windows as he made his way through the halls, rapped once, twice against the cool metal door of Angela’s office. When there was no reply cautiously he pushed open the door - and good thing it was _cautiously_ , because papers littered the floor and every available surface, the piles getting only more and more precarious as they lead to Angela in the centre. The woman didn’t even seem to notice him as he stepped into the room, tired blue eyes intent on the paper in front of her as she scrawled something or another with spidery script. Her computer lit her face with unnatural blue light, the soft hum the only other sound in the room. It was only when the heavy door shut behind McCree with a _thud_ that the doctor seemed to shoot up, a few papers scattering off the desk top she tried to lunge for in vain.

“McCree! What are you doing here at this hour- Can’t you see I’m busy?”  
  
“How long you’ve been busy is the real question here, darlin’.” He said, brow furrowed. “You look like you haven’t slept like the dead in days.”  
  
“I haven’t had time.”  The woman replied briskly, mouth a thin line. The effect was somewhat lessened though by the deep bags under Angela’s eyes, the shade to her skin too pale to be healthy. “I’ve got a lot of work to do McCree, and sickness is ever present.”  
  
“Last time I checked, majority of Overwatch was in fine shape. In fact, there’s only one guy I can think of off the top of my head that is still in your care - and it’s a right coincidence you’re disappearing right along with him, huh?”  
  
“Because his situation is _delicate_ , McCree.” Angela snapped, before rubbing her temples. “I’ve still have a multitude of tests that I need to run on him, and with his condition still unstable it is of the uttermost importance I am not disturbed any further.” She gave McCree a pointed look, a silent dismissal. McCree saw that, registered that and ignored it entirely, walking over to the woman’s desk and leaning over.  
  
“Be straight with me, Angela. Are you bein’ truthful right now, or is this all fancy doctor speech basically saying ‘I don’t know’? Because you know you’re allowed to not know everything, right?”  
  
“But he was with Talon-”  
  
“-He wasn’t the first, and he won’t be the last.” McCree said. “I gotta say doc, it's commendable of you to be sinking so much time into looking after the guy. But you’re killing yourself, and that ain’t a simple figure of speech.” He could see Angela’s shoulders slump at the words, a silent admission of fact. “You look terrible.” Angela just sighed, shaking her head.  
  
“I need to do this McCree. I just- I can’t let what happened with _her_ happen again. I can’t... “ The way her words trailed off, the guilt on her face said all that McCree needed to know on the subject. He slipped a hand over Angela’s, squeezing it.  
  
“And you think that working yourself to death is going to get you any closer to an answer?”

“ _Yes!”_ Mercy insisted, a bit of fire returning to her eyes “I feel like I’m finally onto something with these documents - I know Talon just left them to disorientate us and just make it that much harder to diagnose Hanzo’s condition, but I think I’m starting to see a pattern between the fakes and some of the actual ones they left behind. Although honestly I’m not sure if the true ones are actually the true documents, their script is so neat-”  
  
“Angela, darlin’. Do I have to call Fareeha in here to manhandle you to bed?”  
  
It was a low blow, for sure, and in hindsight he did feel pretty bad for using the woman’s weakness against her. While Angela’s near schoolgirl levels of hopeless crush on the Egyptian were hopelessly obvious seemingly to everybody but each other (seriously, how did they still individually seem to think they were just ‘friends’?), it did seem pretty terrible to actually use the knowledge against the woman. But for getting the desired effect it worked in a pinch, the tips of Angela’s ears going pink as she lost her words for a few precious seconds in her fluster.

“I _assure_ you McCree, that is not necessary.”

“On the flipside Ang’, I think it’s a pretty appealing option. I’m starting to think it’s going to take throwing you over one shoulder to get you out of here.”  
  
“What do you _want?_ ” Angela groaned into her hands, turning more and more red by the second.

“I want to see you get out of here and get some sleep, doll.” McCree said. “You look like a ghost, girl. And if you want, I can talk to your patient. Maybe I can get some information out of him that you can’t.” At that, Angela looked up at him, mulling over the words in the wake of her mortification.  
  
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” She said. “And before you interrupt me again, that isn’t just my professional opinion. Hanzo himself seems to think he is… Dangerous.”  
  
“Dangerous?”  
  
“He won’t elaborate further than that.” Angela said. “It took days for him to just to say that much, and I haven’t been able to touch him and get a proper look at his injuries. His behaviour is so erratic - it’s concerning. He’s asked to stay in his current room with the door locked until I can be assured of his safety.”  
  
“And knowing his stubborn streak, that’s going to be until he’s satisfied.” He said, before raising himself back up to height. “Pack up your things, Angela. I’m serious about sending Fareeha in here if you refuse to take some time out for yourself.”  
  
“I’m not a child.” Angela replied, although the way she pouted as she said the words would have certainly fooled McCree.

“How’s the door locked?”  
  
“Face recognition software and fingerprint recognition. I’ll make sure you’re able to get in.”

“That would be lovely.” McCree said, watching as Angela leaned over to her computer. A few moments passed, before a few cheerful chirps reminiscent of Bastion sounded. The light from the screen faded as Angela tidied away a few of the piles - thankfully, she actually looked like she was going to leave. _Good,_ McCree thought.

“If you have any problems you know where my room is.” She said, walking over to McCree. Tiredness hung off her shoulders like a thick blanket - Angela didn’t even try to hide how exhausted she was now and now McCree was really glad he’d seeked her out. Sometimes he forgot that under the professionalism and strength was a human woman all the same, made of flesh and blood and bone and had as many ghosts as the rest of them. Hell, sometimes he forgot how much shorter she was than him; it certainly didn’t help that she was hunched over but she looked so _small._  
  
“Make sure you get enough sleep okay?” McCree said, patting her shoulder. “I don’t want to hear you came back in here and barely got four hours.” Angela managed a weak smile at that.  
  
“On the contrary McCree, I’ll be surprised if I last the next half hour.” She said truthfully as she opened the door for the two of them. McCree made his way through it, watching Angela shut it behind her. But then she paused, slender finger rolling once, twice over the handle before she turned back to him. “His room is the last one at the end of the hall. Just… Be careful, okay? There’s a part of me that loathes letting you into Hanzo’s room when I can’t diagnose him. The papers say that he was the test subject of some new experimentation, trying to make Hanzo as ruthless a killer as Widowmaker without the distinct visual side effects. They were trying to preserve his assassin nature while making him more aggressive, more agreeable to authority. The fact that the experiment was such a failure that Talon would rather turn him over to us and hope he tears us apart as a footnote is extremely worrying.”  
  
“I assure you, ma’am, me and Peacekeeper are never separated, and if Blackwatch taught me anything it’s that if you have to shoot you don’t ask questions.”  
  
“But will you shoot?”  
  
“Only if it’s required.” He replied, with a pause too long beforehand that said everything that the two of them needed to know. “You go get some sleep Angela, look after yourself.”  
  
“You too.”  
  
She walked off quietly, leaving McCree standing alone in the clean halls of the medical wing. Seng no point in stalling, he made his way down the hall to the door. Every other one was open, their previous occupants long gone, but even so the ghosts of who had been here and who hadn’t made it out of here clung to his shoulders, whispering things he couldn’t hear but made him uncomfortable all the same. How Angela could stand to work and breathe in a place like this was beyond him - he’d only been thinking about it for minutes and already it made him feel claustrophobic.

He knocked out of habit, the sound echoing down the halls. No response. _Perhaps he’s sleeping?_ The words didn’t ring true in McCree’s mind - he liked to think he knew Hanzo better than most people, and he knew that for Hanzo just because night fell didn’t mean the wheels stopped turning. He had even teased Hanzo on a few occasions at their trainings that the reason he was so quiet was that it was too early for him to actually be awake - if the way Hanzo’s lips had pulled up at the comments were anything to go by, he wasn’t far off.

He pushed open the door into a small recovery room, as sparse with decorations as space. The benches were clear of equipment, the door to what McCree could only assume was the bathroom closed. The bed was the only place where light fell in the room, silvery moonlight slicing into the darkness and illuminating the man on top of the sheets. He stared out the window, unmoving.  
  
“Uh, howdy partner.” McCree said, tilting his hat. He knew that Hanzo couldn’t see him but the action was instinctive; it calmed the nerves that now seemed to be pounding in his throat making it too hard to breathe. “Thought I’d swing by and see how you’re doing - gave me a right scare you did.”  
  
“I know why you’re here.” The words were accompanied by a head tilt, and the timbre of Hanzo’s voice made a shiver slip down his spine. His voice was rough from disuse, and yet the sound of it _did_ something to him he really didn’t want to think about right now.  
  
“How?”  
  
“I heard you.” McCree looked back towards the door. Solid metal - not to mention Angela’s office was a good way down the hall.  
  
“Not to say you’re lying, but we weren’t exactly close when we were talking ‘bout all that.”  
  
“I know. I am well aware.” Hanzo said, fingers curled along the window ledge. He still made no move to turn towards McCree. “It was rather cruel of you to bring up her attraction to Fareeha to convince her to leave.”  
  
“How- _How?_ ” McCree said, genuinely at a loss for words. “Darlin’, I’m not sure what sort of ninja tricks you’re pulling right now, but last time I checked you weren’t able to get out of this room. You made sure of it.” At that, Hanzo laughed, a sound that shook his shoulders but sounded so hollow.

  
“Talon changed me, McCree.” He said. “I lost track of the days when I was in there - they confused my thoughts and blinded me with pain until I would cooperate with them in every way I could. And then they _changed_ me.” The words hissed out between the man’s teeth. “There is a beast beneath my skin now. And I cannot control it for much longer.”

That was when Hanzo chose to look back, meet McCree’s eyes and suddenly McCree couldn’t breathe anymore because those weren’t the eyes he knew. Acid yellow burned into him, the pupils black so black and it felt like he was falling into it. The gaze was ringed by red skin that McCree knew now wasn’t covered by blood, it couldn’t be blood because it was too bright, the pattern too detailed. _Tattoos_ , the still functioning part of McCree’s mind chittered, eyes following down to what was uncovered of Hanzo’s arm. Red, red, red, the pattern unfamiliar - what had they done to him?  
  
“Hanzo,” McCree said, dropping the pet names “I don’t understand.” At that, Hanzo barked - _actually_ barked, the sound animalistic and raw with emotion and when Hanzo look back to him he met the wolf’s gaze for what it truly was.  
  
“You think I have any better idea?” He said. “I know what Talon wanted. They wanted a killing machine; they wanted a loyal dog to bow for them in the same way that the Widowmaker does. They couldn’t control me through numbness, so they sought to control me through animalistic rage instead. They painted my body without permission, they injected me and made the beast grow inside me, wished it to consume me. But neither of us wanted to bow to them. And so they turned me back over. They hope I will lose my control and without my humanity I will rampage... I fear they are right.”  
  
“Surely there’s a better way than just waiting.” McCree said, starting to pick up the details he hadn’t before. The sheets under Hanzo shredded though as if grasped in a too tight, too sharp grip. The way his fingers dug into the window pane, and those were not nails that were digging scars into the window pane - they were too sharp, too long, too inhuman. The way his shoulders tensed, his arms shook; the way his body seemed to be a spring ever tighter winding up and up and up without any release.  
  
“You’re scared. I can hear your heartbeat from here. What I want I cannot ask of you.”  
  
“Bullshit.” McCree replied fiercely. Because yes he could feel his heart like a jackrabbit in his chest beating beating beating faster and faster, could feel his pulse in his neck and chest in a way that made his still human hand shake. But damnit, he could put that aside if he could help. “I’m here because I want to help. What do you need - shoot.”  
  
“I need you.”  
  
And all of McCree’s thoughts screeched to a halt because that was _not_ the answer he was expecting. His mind scrambled to try and deny that it was in that way, no, it couldn’t be, but there was a heat to Hanzo’s gaze that was so tightly restrained. Fuck, was that the reason he was so tightly wound? The worst part though was that well, McCree wasn’t opposed to the idea. This was dangerous and impulsive but the way Hanzo said those words made his dick twitch in the confines of his pants.  
  
“The beast is… Territorial. He seems to have picked up on my fondness of you” and if it wasn’t a trick of the light McCree could have sworn that was a blush on his cheeks “and it is now intent on claiming you. Perhaps now you understand my hesitation to accept your help.”  
  
“But what if I don’t mind?” McCree mumbled under his voice, so quiet that most people wouldn’t have heard.

Hanzo did, and the way that his eye lit up dangerously made his heart skip a beat.  
  
“I cannot promise your safety if you agree to this, you realise.” Hanzo said. “I’m barely keeping myself restrained as it is.”  
  
“From what? Killing me?”  
  
“From flipping you onto the counter and fucking you until you cannot remember your own name.”  
  
_Fuck._ Just the thought made McCree shudder - it had been a long time since he’d indulged in such acts, but to say that he remembered the experiences fondly was an understatement. Could Hanzo smell arousal now? Considering he seemed to have picked up superhuman hearing along with all the freaky wolf shit, McCree didn’t put it past him and _well,_ if that was the case he was well and truly fucked. Good thing that was exactly what Hanzo was proposing, so that saying could come true both metaphorically and literally.

“I- I think I can manage that.” McCree said after a too long moment, mouth dry.  
  
“If you are truly serious, you will require lubricant. Unfortunately there isn’t any in this room; however I know the adjacent care rooms have the medical variety which should substitute well enough.” Hanzo said, gold eyes sincere. “If you do not return, I will not hold it against you. You are not obliged in any way.”

“Good to know, partner.” McCree said, recognising the words for what they were. _Of course even now he’d make sure to ask for consent, the honourable asshole._ “I’ll, uh, be right back.”  
  
He could feel Hanzo’s eyes burning the back of his neck as he fumbled with the door handle out, his fingers clumsy just with the knowledge of the older man watching him, knowing that if he walks back into this room he will be at Hanzo’s mercy - and that thought should not be as arousing as it is. After all, the guy has yellow eyes now. And claws. And McCree is not entirely sure whether the man was to fuck him or rip him to pieces and this is probably the stupidest decision he’s made in his entire life. Forget Blackwatch, forget the Deadlock gang - he was looking death right in its acidic eyes and was going to let himself be fucked by it… What a way to go. His fingers locked around the jar of lubricant finally after far too long, tubes and boxes and tub spilling haphazardly out of the cupboards as a few rolls of bandages toppled across the floor. Angela was going to kill him for leaving such a mess, but frankly she was the last thing on his mind as he made his way back to the end room, opening the door and stepping into the room - a room that seemed to be distinctly missing the other man.  
  
“Hanzo? I’m ba-”  
  
And suddenly strong arms had grabbed his shoulders, spinning him around and slamming him against the door. The lubricant jar dropped out of McCree’s hand and rolled away, forgotten, as McCree just tried to stand up straight, remember to breathe as Hanzo’s body pressed against his. His back was flush with cold metal, a knee shoved in between his legs to drag against his half hard cock and he gasped as pain bloomed in his neck, the other man blowing cool air against a newly formed hickey.  
  
“Oh, I’m going to have _so_ much fun with you.”  
  
The words were basically a growl, deep and menacing and McCree couldn’t hold back his moan, fisted his human hand in the fabric of Hanzo’s yukata as his other one scrambled for purchase on the door behind him, only meeting metal and shit that was not helping at all because it felt like his legs were going to give away under him. That train of thought was lost instantly though as Hanzo dragged McCree down by the hair into a fierce kiss, biting down on his lip so hard that McCree could taste blood. The taste was metallic, harsh; his lips tingled in a way that shouldn’t have felt good, but it did.  
  
‘Fuck doll- _Fuck_ , you’re killing me.” McCree panted when Hanzo let him break for air, to suck down a few precious breaths to stop the room from spinning. The other man dragged his leg against his dick again and this time McCree couldn’t stop himself from bucking into the touch. His hips jerked and for a moment he could feel the outline of Hanzo’s own cock against his leg, and that alone was something of a surprise - turned out there was a reason Hanzo wore such baggy pants. Cautiously he tried to do the same in return, dragged his thigh against Hanzo’s crotch to feel him twitch against him and for a moment that was exactly what happened - but then suddenly there was a hand at his throat with fingers, no, claws digging into the skin and making him gasp.  
  
“ _I’m_ in charge here.” Hanzo growled, and the words went straight to McCree’s dick, aching against the confines of his pants. There was no hope of early relief either - his belt actually had a purpose besides the buckle itself, keeping his pants snugly on his hips, and while possessive was a good look on Hanzo, McCree _really_ didn’t want to know what would be done to him if he tried to undress himself. That seemed to lie squarely in the field of ‘for the person in charge’, after all.  
  
He was ripped out of his thoughts by another bite to the neck, teeth scraping along the abused skin and the feel of them was so sharp, too sharp. When he tried to look down though Hanzo pulled him by the hair, exposing the skin of his neck to his mouth and Hanzo abused the access gladly. He knocked away McCree’s hat - it fell uselessly to the ground, quickly forgotten.  
  
“That feels so good Hanzo, don’t stop- _Fuck_.” McCree said, throwing his head back as the other man pulled on his ear with his teeth, grinding up into him again and again, twice in a row and it made his hip jerk fitfully even as Hanzo backed away. The erratic pattern was maddening, not allowing him to get any sort of rhythm together and already he could feel the frustration building of being so far away from release, being denied any way of getting close. It was a heady taste in his mouth that mixed with the residual taste of iron. Hanzo panted in his ear; McCree could hear the sound of talons scratching at the metal of his chest plate in vain.  
  
“Get this off.” Hanzo said. It wasn’t a request, it was an order and McCree was only too happy to oblige, tugging with arousal slowed fingers at the straps on his shoulders as Hanzo’s hands dragged down his back to his ass - he could feel the claws kiss the skin to leave burning streaks and it only made his body feel more alive. Usually McCree could be out of this thing in a few seconds flat but for some reason it was a lot harder when there was a hot man currently squeezing his ass through his pants like his life depended on it. As soon as he got the straps loosened though the armour was off, along with his serape since he really would prefer that not be a casualty tonight.

It proved to be a good choice, because as soon as he did Hanzo was shoving him back against the door in a way that made his heart stutter in his chest. His fingers curled into his button up shirt, tightening, tightening and McCree could hear the fabric ripping under the grasp. It tore like paper, effortlessly; McCree could only watch and let his breath hiss from between his teeth as buttons started to pop off and he could feel the claws drag down against his torso as his shirt was all but ripped from his body in a way that made him feel so small. As soon as the skin of his collar was exposed Hanzo’s mouth was on it, nipping and biting at the bone in a way that made Hanzo’s grasp flutter at Hanzo’s back.  
  
“You wouldn’t believe how long I’ve wanted to do this.” Hanzo said against the skin, lips and teeth slowly scraping up and up and across. “Wanted to see you come apart under my fingers, mark you up until you can’t move without thinking of me. Want you to be so marked so you can’t hide it and everybody’s wondering who fucked you, have you scream my name because you’re _mine.”_ A hand came down to manhandle McCree through his pants as Hanzo sucked McCree’s still throbbing lip into his mouth and it was all McCree could do to moan the man’s name in a breathless whimper. It wasn’t a scream, he didn’t have enough breath for a scream because the overload of sensation was robbing him of any he had, but it was enough to see Hanzo’s mouth curl up into a grin. Unnaturally sharp teeth winked in the moonlight, that shouldn’t have sent a jolt down to his dick in the way that it did.  
  
“Please darlin’, you keep doing this and I’m going to come.” McCree whined, “You just can’t tease a man like this.” Hanzo smiled wider at that, the expression positively wolfish; McCree wasn’t sure whether that meant he’d made the right or wrong choice. Knowing how many stories there were about wolves and their trickery the obvious answer was _no, none of this was the right choice what the fuck McCree._ But as the wolf said to Red Riding Hood as he flashed her his teeth from the bed ‘All the better to eat you with, my dear’. And being eaten up by the wolf sounded just fine to him.  
  
“Then maybe I should make good on my promise.”  
  
“What pr-” McCree started to say. But before he could finish his sentence Hanzo had pushed him away from the door, the bench hitting the small of his back and _oh, that promise._ His human hand scrambled for the side of the bench as he was roughly pushed onto it, trying to keep his balance as Hanzo pushed him down, mouth following the angry red lines down his torso.  His other hand fisted in the fabric over his arm - it didn’t take much to drag it down to expose the broad expanse of Hanzo’s shoulders, to make McCree feel less naked, like that gaze wasn’t scalding him quite so much to the bone.  
  
It only took one look for McCree’s hands to go to his buckle, undoing it as fast as he could and shoving everything down as fast as he could - only to realise _shit,_ he was still wearing his shoes and this was going to made things a lot fucking harder than he was really hoping this would be. “My shoes-” McCree panted, and he wondered what a sight he must look to Hanzo; hair sex mussed even though a hand hadn’t been anywhere his dick yet, cheeks burning and what remained of his clothes shoved halfway down his legs as he lay sprawled out on the bench. Hanzo looked down, teeth bared and eyes dark and for the first time since he had walked back into the room McCree felt fear melt cold down his spine.  
  
“Take them off. Then on your stomach.”  
  
McCree was pretty sure he hadn’t taken his shoes off so fast in his entire life, fingers slipping off the leather as they scrambled to shuck them off. Hanzo’s gaze burned; he could feel him watching every movement, every breath he took scrutinized under that silent observation. He had barely turned around before Hanzo was on him again, breath hot against the back of his neck as Hanzo’s body pressed against his. He could feel Hanzo’s dick against him, hard and aching and just the feel of it made him shudder. It was worse when Hanzo’s mouth started running down his back, teeth dragging against the dip of his spine in a way that made him arch up into the grasp.

“Going to open you up so pretty.” Hanzo growled as he reached the small of McCree’s back, and McCree could feel each word as much as he heard them. A finger stroked at his entrance, slick and cool, and McCree forced himself to stop, breathe because all he wanted to do was chase down more of the adrenaline that now buzzed in his veins in the fastest way he could. The result was immediate when he let his body relax - the finger sunk into him in a way that was unusual but not unpleasant and McCree couldn’t help but try and buck up into the touch, try and move that finger where he really wanted to go. But then Hanzo’s other hand was at his hip, fingers biting at his hip (no claws - could Hanzo control his claws? he was thankful either way though there were none inside him) and that grasp pushed him down into the bench. It was obvious what the touch said - _don’t move unless I say so._ “Look at you, already moving against me. What if I just did this all evening, left you whimpering and aching for my touch?”  
  
“Think you’d last less time than me, if I’m being honest.” McCree replied. The cockiness behind the words was lost somewhat as Hanzo pushed another finger into him and he gasped into the air. Even through the slick of too much lube McCree could feel the calluses on Hanzo’s fingertips from years of training. They rubbed against his insides in the most maddening of ways, quick and scissoring as if just to drive home this wasn’t really about McCree, not at the end of the day.  
  
“Really?” Hanzo said, and McCree could feel the resulting deep throaty laugh in his gut. “Then I don’t think you know exactly how much I’m going to tear you apart. Besides, whoever said you would get to touch yourself?”  
  
“Me.” McCree said, and even he didn’t sound confident in the words he was saying. Hanzo just looked at him and smiled - his eyes gleamed in the moonlight, bright and acidic and feral.  
  
“Then you truly have a lot to learn.”  
  
A third finger pressed into him, and McCree keened at the feeling with the sensation was beginning to fall just shy of painful. He could feel each ridge of Hanzo’s fingers, was so aware of how they split him open and fuck, if this was what it felt like just with three fingers, what was it going to feel like when it was Hanzo’s cock pressing into him? Just the thought made his hand fly to his mouth, biting down on the flesh of his thumb to muffle the sound. But then his hand was being dragged out of his mouth, his wrist pinned against the cool bench surface as Hanzo mouth came up to his ear.  
  
“Don’t you _dare_.” He hissed, “I want to hear everything. Every moan, every cry, every time you say my name. _Everything._ ” And as if to prove his point Hanzo’s fingers jabbed up and McCree howled as pleasure burned through his system. His legs buckled out from under him - thank fuck he wasn't using them to stand - as his dick jerked hard at the feeling. He could feel a slither of precome roll down his length, but the tickle of it was completely secondary as Hanzo stretched him open with a few more quick thrusts of his fingers. He bumped up against the bundle of nerves once more before he removed his fingers entirely and McCree honest to god whimpered as he did. He clenched down around nothing and ached because he felt so _empty._

“Please darlin’, please.” He gasped, near delirious. “Want you now, _please._ ”

Hanzo just laughed in response - or at least, McCree assumed that it was supposed to be a laugh, the sound caught somewhere between a chuckle and a possessive growl as Hanzo’s fingers curled around McCree’s hips. He could feel fingers pressing into fresh bruises, claws biting into the skin again and _fuck,_ he could feel Hanzo’s cock against him now slick and warm and “Please, please, _please._ ”  
  
And finally Hanzo pushed in, slick and thick and filling him so much and he let out a breathless shout of “Oh god, _Hanzo_ ” that had him dragged back onto Hanzo’s cock just that bit faster. There was no adjustment period, no moment to let McCree get his bearings - Hanzo had been so patient and that patience has snapped like a rubber band to make way for a beast that was jealous and restless and _hungry_. Hanzo started up a punishing pace before McCree could adjust his grip on the bench in front of him, in and out, each thrust in McCree was practically able to taste Hanzo in the back of his throat and he tried his best to stay still. It was so hard though, so hard when pleasure was sent leaping up his spine with every other thrust and the thought to stay still, stay still was slipping away from him. He couldn’t focus on anything else other than the feel of Hanzo’s hipbones rutting against him, the feel of being split open on a cock he’d wanted for too long and the cool feeling of the bench against his cheek, his chest felt secondary in comparison.

“Beautiful.” Hanzo said, his voice barely human and McCree noticed for the first time that he hadn’t shut up since Hanzo’s first thrust, moans spilling unbidden from his mouth and he was powerless to stop it. Not like he had much of a choice - though Hanzo had let go of his wrist McCree knew it would be a death wish to attempt muffling himself again. Not to mention there was something inexplicitly arousing about knowing Hanzo was hanging onto every sound he made - that it was driving this frantic pace as he was taken, no, _claimed._ The sound alone was filthy, the slick sound of lube, the slap of skin on skin that was unmistakable on its own. It sounded like sex, pure sex and mixed with his moans McCree couldn’t escape it.

When McCree felt fingers tangling in his hair he let it happen; when Hanzo pulled he came up willing, letting his back arch and his neck fall open. He was rewarded with Hanzo’s mouth on his skin, biting down in a way that made McCree scramble for balance as his dick jerked against his stomach. Pain and pleasure were mixing, blurring, he couldn’t tell the difference between the two but he could tell that climax was coming closer and closer and he needed it like he needed air.  
  
“Hanzo please, gonna come-” he was cut off for a moment as Hanzo thrusted into him at just the right angle, hitting the nerves head on and making McCree see stars “-fuck, need to touch, _please.”  
  
_ “ ** _No._** ” Hanzo snarled, so close to him he could feel Hanzo’s breath on the back of his neck and it made hairs stand up on end. Suddenly he felt the grip on his hips tighten, and he was empty _oh god why no he was so close too close too empty please._ But then he was flipped over like he weighed nothing and he was face to face with Hanzo, who thrust into him again before he could say a word and McCree threw his head back as he did because oh god this was too much. He was being broken down, undone under Hanzo’s fingers and when McCree looked him in the eyes Hanzo’s eyes glowed. It was inhuman, feral - McCree felt stripped under that gaze, more naked than he thought he could ever feel. “You will come when I say and not a moment before,” Hanzo said, his voice rumbling in his chest. “Do you understand?”  
  
“But-”  
  
“ _Do you understand?_ ” Hanzo said again, and McCree could do nothing but nod, even as his dick pulsed angry on his stomach, as pre come cooled on the skin. When he did Hanzo smiled too wide with pointed teeth gleaming and somehow picked the pace up even further, and even if McCree could move he could have done nothing but take it now. He was prey, he was barely there and entirely there to Hanzo all at the same time as the man pushed him down and made him take it. He was there to be used, to be devoured by Hanzo with his eyes and ears and mouth and he keened as he felt Hanzo’s pace start to fall out of rhythm, his breathing starting to pick up and he arched into the touch _please, please, please-  
  
_ “Come for me.”

  
McCree’s orgasm ran up his spine like a shot and he yelled out Hanzo’s name as he tensed up, bucked back. He knew he shouldn’t move but he couldn’t control the way he wanted to curl in on himself, as release finally came to him as long stripes over his abdomen. Meanwhile Hanzo all but dragged McCree onto him, and through the pulsing of his release he could feel Hanzo’s own fill him, hot and filling him up and just that sensation in itself was erotic in a way that McCree couldn’t describe. Except he could, because it was Hanzo inside him and over him, and the touch of fear had only amplified how much relief and euphoria he felt now. Finally he was able to fall back, his breath returning to him as he tried to finally come back to himself… Only to realise Hanzo was still thrusting.

Compared to the thorough fucking McCree had just received this was almost delicate in comparison, a steady rock like a horse mid gait beneath him, but the key point was that _Hanzo was still fucking him_. His body was still recovering, his skin hot cold and prickling and come drying on his skin, and he wasn’t sure he could handle more as he looked to Hanzo with confusion in his eyes.  
  
“Sweetheart, I don’t know if I can-”  
  
“You will.” Hanzo said, with a wild grin. “I know you can.” And the words weren’t unkind - perhaps it was delirium talking but under the words he could hear the Hanzo he knew. Kind, patient and most importantly would stop on a dime if he truly was being hurt. It was the thought he clung to as Hanzo leaned down and kissed him again, swiping his tongue across his teeth and invading McCree’s mouth to claim it. And through the rocking and the kissing and the feeling of Hanzo’s fingers roaming over his body somehow McCree was getting hard again, slowly but surely and he gasped as he felt the oversensitivity give way to pleasure. “That’s it, that’s it.” Hanzo said, and McCree honestly wasn’t sure if it was the wolf or Hanzo talking because the words sat on the blade’s edge of encouragement and persistence but McCree was falling again all the same.

The smell of sex was potent now as Hanzo continued to drive into him, picking up the pace once more. Thank god Hanzo had used as much lube as he did; although now he was also filled with cum and the way that sounded was enough to bring a genuine flush to McCree’s face. After all, this wasn’t his first time at the rodeo - but he couldn’t exactly remember the last time he’d been fucked through an orgasm to head to another one. Come to think of it, ironically, he hadn’t ever ridden bareback either and this was probably the most unsafe sex he’d ever had… And that was before taking into account the whole claws and wolf eyes and insatiable lust thing.

He was shocked out of his thoughts by a well-aimed thrust, and his hands scrambled for purchase as he saw sparks. One grabbed onto Hanzo’s shoulder, pulled him close as if that would help keep him balanced, if keeping the other man close would stop the _too much, too much._ Indeed, Hanzo’s mouth started to roam, lighting up bruises at his collarbone he’d caused only a while before. “So gorgeous under me.” Hanzo murmured, hips moving faster. “Going to come for me again, let me see how pretty your face is when you let go.” And those words combined with the way Hanzo’s clawed fingers raked down his chest, dragged him against his body like he was merely a toy was a juxtaposition that only drove McCree’s pleasure higher, had his body clenching involuntarily against Hanzo’s dick and oh god he could feel some of Hanzo’s come dripping out he was fucking him full and he couldn’t take this, he couldn’t take this-  
  
-And he actually sobbed as Hanzo’s fist locked around the base of his dick too tight to be pleasurable, but that was his first mistake wasn’t it? It wasn’t about him, it wasn’t about him and the animalistic hunger on Hanzo’s face was the only thing that McCree could register for a solid few seconds as his body failed to lurch into the final stages of orgasm. Now he was actually looking, Hanzo _looked_ feral too - somewhere along the line the tie had fallen out of hair, it falling down to frame his face in sex wild salt and pepper. His yukata had been shoved down from over his shoulder to his waist, exposing the extent of the now vivid red tattoo that seemed to swim as he watched them. Somehow the man was still more clothed than McCree himself was - no wonder he felt so naked.  
  
“I did say you had a lot to learn, did I not?” Hanzo said with a smirk.  
  
“I didn’t think you meant like this.” McCree replied, voice wrecked.  
  
“Trying to anticipate me is a waste of time.” Hanzo’s smirk only widened, his grip around McCree’s cock fluttering as if to remind him it was still there. Not that he could forget - even if he could ignore the feeling of the orgasm just out of reach there was also the fact he could just feel Hanzo’s claws and while they weren’t doing any damage, the threat was hard to ignore “If anything, it goes to show you have far too much energy, and I’m not doing my job.”  
  
McCree wasn’t sure it was possible to be so desperate for an orgasm, but being completely unable to come was quickly wrecking him. His skin felt too cold even though the flush on his face and his neck and steadily climbing down his torso said differently, he could feel every part of Hanzo’s cock and he couldn’t tell whether he wanted it in further, further, split him in half entirely or away so he could finally gather his thoughts in peace. But sparks were leaping up his spine at every thrust now, breaking down his thoughts like they were tissue paper and scattering them to leave only the animalistic desire _please please Hanzo please._ Hanzo was filling him again, the slick sound going to his head and making the blood in his dick puse _please._

When Hanzo finally let go it felt like he had been shot, pleasure burning him up from the inside and he couldn’t hear what he sounded like over the blood rushing in his ears. Only knew to push down further, just a moment longer so Hanzo’s head rubbed up against his insides in just the right way as McCree spilled for him pitifully over his chest. Hanzo’s hand rubbed him raw all through it, milked him for every drop as he convulsed weakly and when he finally fell back again this time Hanzo actually pulled out, finally allowing his insides to start rearranging themselves as he took a moment to just float in the aftermath of sensation.

He didn’t expect Hanzo to pick him up in two arms, lie him down on the bed as he started to run over his body with a warm flannel McCree didn’t even remember him having. It took him a few moments longer than he’d care to admit to realise Hanzo would have got it from the bathroom - how he managed to do that while still running over McCree’s skin with calming touches he wasn’t entirely sure. Frankly, McCree didn’t give a flying fuck about it so long as Hanzo kept touching him and didn’t leave him to float off into the aether alone.

He could hear Hanzo murmuring to himself (or was it to him?) as he did so, cleaning his body like it was an indulgence and when McCree could make sense of the words again he could hear. “Well done, well done, you were so good for me.” And there was something in those words that gave McCree pause to look up at the man.  
  
“Are you okay, partner?”  
  
“I should be asking you that.” Hanzo rumbled in reply. His eyes were returning to normal now, the gold a blink and you miss it as he focused on cleaning McCree up.  
  
“I wasn’t the one who went wolf and fucked me into next week.” McCree pointed out.  
  
“You were the one that had to take it though.” Hanzo said, and it only took a moment for McCree to recognise the tendrils of guilt pulling at the ends of Hanzo’s words and oh no, that wouldn’t do at all. He leaned up, taking Hanzo’s face in one hand with his hand tangling in his beard, pulling his face over to McCree’s own so that their eyes met.  
  
“You say that like I didn’t enjoy it. And trust me, I enjoyed that a lot.”  
  
“You had to though.”  
  
“No I didn’t.” McCree said. “You told me that if I came back that was my choice, and I knew you would’ve stopped if I didn’t want it.” Hanzo looked like he was going to argue, but shut his mouth and opting to nod instead. Satisfied, and perhaps also because he was still riding off the tails of his release, he pulled Hanzo down into a kiss. This time there was no heat, no urgency, only a warm back and forward as they indulged in the touch of each other’s mouths. The world almost seemed too quiet now, the room pulling back into focus now it wasn’t spun around the sex addled desires of the two men occupying it and McCree shivered as he returned to his own body. He could feel Hanzo starting to pull away, to look for a blanket he was sure, but that wasn’t what he wanted right now and he pulled the smaller man onto him. His skin was warm against his own, and he leaned into the touch. Savoured it for the moment because he could hear the voice in the back of his mind whispering _enjoy it while you can, these things never end well. You were just a needed fuck, don’t get comfortable.  
  
_ “You’re thinking too hard.” Hanzo said, looking to him. He’d managed to pull up the blanket around their legs, not that it did all that much with slashes running through much of it but it was the thought that counted as McCree lay back on the pillow.  
  
“Didn’t think drugs could help you read minds, Hanzo.”  
  
“I don’t need to be a mind reader to know when you’re overthinking. You furrow your brow when you do it, like you’re trying to solve a puzzle and you’re confusing yourself in the process.” He paused, as if he said too much before continuing. “What’s wrong?”  
  
“What is this?” McCree blurted out before he could stop himself. He said the words too quick, too sharp and this time when he muffled himself with the meat of his thumb Hanzo didn’t stop him. He only looked down over him with… Confusion?  
  
“I… Did not know that was a possibility.”  
  
“It’s been a possibility for a damned long time, Hanzo.” McCree admitted. “You think a lone ranger like me just hands his time out to any old gal?”  
  
“Yes.” McCree had to look up at Hanzo’s face and that smile to know he was joking.  
  
“And you call me a headache, darlin’.” But then his lips were captured in another kiss, Hanzo’s body warm on him and around him and he felt his heart skip a beat in his chest as it fluttered with something akin to love. It was too soon to say it, too soon to open up that much but he held the realisation like a butterfly in his hands.  
  
“If you wish for an honest answer,” Hanzo said, kissing McCree’s jaw before looking up at him. “I do not wish for this to be our last engagement. Nor do I wish for our relationship to stay… Strictly professional.”  
  
“That makes two of us, darlin’.” McCree said, and he smiled as he saw Hanzo’s shoulders relax. “Although mind telling me about this wolf of yours, or whatever it is?”  
  
“I believe I owe you as much after all this.”  
  
“You don’t owe me anything.” McCree said firmly. “I’d love to know if you’re telling, babe, but I’m not going to wrangle the answer out of you like a feral cat.” That seemed to pull a laugh out of Hanzo, who sighed as he settled on McCree’s chest, seemingly more comfortable than he was before.  
  
“Through the experimentation they have conducted on me I seemed to have lost the connection to the draconic heritage of my clan.” Hanzo said, mulling over the edges of the words like they didn’t sound quite right. “Due to my calm demeanour they wished to install animalistic rage in me, disorienting my soul from my body so I would look to Talon to guidance. They reasoned that they would be able to tame a wolf’s instincts better than any others, so they changed me. Changed my markings, enhanced my senses so that the wolf they were rearing inside me would feel comfortable in my skin. But he took after my stubbornness.” He said, and a small smile broke through his solemn features. “He refused to bow as they wished me to - one night he snapped and we eliminated three doctors before we were subdued. I suspect they saw my inner conflict as a weakness to exploit, hence why they revealed me to you. At least, I suspect that’s what they did. England is far too big for me to be have found on accident.” McCree nodded in agreement.

“And how do you feel now?”  
  
“...Unbalanced.” Hanzo replied truthfully. “I am not at peace with this wolf, much as I would like to say otherwise. But that will come with time. For the moment, I am better. And it certainly helps that I am with you. You are rather good at grounding me.” Hanzo added with a bashfulness McCree had never seen out of the man. It made him smile, pecking the man’s lips.  
  
“That’s good to hear, darlin’.” McCree said in response. “I mean, you did say the little guy liked me.”  
  
“He’s not little.” Hanzo said almost on reflex, although he laughed afterwards. “I wasn’t lying when I said that though. He seems to have picked up my already established feeling for my colleagues. It’s a rather strange feeling, I must admit.”  
  
“Makes me feel good though this wasn’t me fucking you into love.” McCree replied with more relief in his voice that he meant. Hanzo caught his lips again, so easy, was it always going to be this easy now? He hoped so.  
  
“I have cared for you for a long time, well before I was taken by Talon.” Hanzo said. “I did not need to have intercourse with you to confirm that.”  
  
“And now there you go, making it sound all medical.” McCree said, pulling a face.  
  
“Well, we are in a medical facility Jesse.”  
  
“Now you just shut your mouth.” McCree said, not sure whether his sudden blush was coming from being called out on his own joke or the use of his name that made butterflies flutter in his stomach. Hanzo only laughed in reply, pressing further into McCree and McCree couldn’t help but do the same, tangling their limbs together in a way that he had only dreamed of.  
McCree slept better that night than he had in years.

-x-

“Mornin’ Angela.”  
  
“Oh- McCree! You’re okay!”  
  
“Sure am darlin’. I told you I could handle it, didn’t I?”  
  
“You don’t always have the best track record when you say that, you know.”  
  
“Now listen, I didn’t call you to get sass first thing in the morning sweetheart.”  
  
“Then why did you?”  
  
“Listen, doctor patient confidentiality is still a thing, right?”  
  
“Of course - why?”  
  
“Listen, I need some painkillers. Some of the stronger ones if I can, please.”  
  
“And why would you need those?”  
  
“Do I need to go over my methods of interrogation or can I just get my drugs and leave?”  
  
“I am supposed to prescribe anything stronger than a light pain relief,  McCree.”  
  
“Can’t you just leave them on a bench somewhere? Like you forgot them or something? Maybe with some bandages or something.”  
  
“Why can’t I just give them to you? And what do you need bandages for?”  
  
“I’m not exactly in a state to be collecting things right now. Or seeing anybody, for a matter of fact.”  
  
“ _McCree._ ”

“Listen darlin’, I don’t have a shirt to my name right now so can you just give me a lil’-”  
  
“McCree, what _did_ you do last night?” She said, with a voice that already said that she had connected the dots - and the deep rumbling laugh of Hanzo behind him was not helping the situation.  
  
“Angela, don’t make me do this.”  
  
“My office, ten minutes. Bring Hanzo if he’s decided to behave himself. And _don’t_ groan like that, Jesse.”  
  
And that was how McCree ended up on Angela’s clinic, a blush high on his face as one very amused doctor looked over his injuries. They weren’t exactly subtle either - angry red lines down his chest and on his shoulders and on his hips, not to mention the absolute plethora of hickies that littered his skin  It looked like Hanzo had choked him, there were so many clustered on his neck alone and he glared at the other man sitting in the free chair.  
  
“Stop looking so smug, Hanzo. I look like I’ve been run over three times in a tow truck.”  
  
“It’s hard not to.” He replied lightly, and with no sort of apology in his voice whatsoever. _Asshole.  
  
_ “It’s your fault I’m getting poked at.” McCree said, “I just wanted some painkillers but no, you had to make me ask.”  
  
“I would have found out either way.” Angela said.  
  
“No you wouldn’t of.”  
  
“Yes she would.” Hanzo and Angela replied, making McCree groan and lean forward - only to groan out of pain and shoot back up because his ass _really_ did not like that position.  
  
“You two are both terrible.”  
  
“Don’t worry, Hanzo’s next.”  
  
“But I’m not injured-”  
  
“-This is also the first time I’ve been within two feet of you since I put you in that recovery room.” Angela shot back, and not for the first time McCree admired the spine of the woman. Hanzo just made an indignant noise, huffing to nobody in particular.  
  
“Also McCree?”  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“When people say to get a room, can you not use my medical facilities?”  
  
“ _Angela!_ ”  
  
“I’m just saying.” Angela replied, laughing. “I have to treat people in here, it’s not sanitary!”  
  
“I guess we’ll just have to find somewhere else, won’t we McCree?” Hanzo replied, and McCree could only laugh in response. But suddenly a thought came to him and he perked up.  
  
"Oh! We should go to my room after this, partner" and he grinned as he realised the double meaning to the pet name now "I have your bow there."  
  
"Wait- You have my bow? I thought they'd disposed of it." Hanzo said, his face lighting up and  _fuck,_ if that wasn't the most gorgeous thing he'd ever seen. If Angela wasn't currently attending to him he would have swept across the room and kissed that pretty smile off his face. He smiled wider as he realised he had plenty of time to do that later. All the time in the world, even.  
  
_Yeah,_ he thought to himself, _I really could get used to this._


End file.
